


Provocation

by linaerys



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-11
Updated: 2011-07-11
Packaged: 2017-10-21 06:53:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/222173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linaerys/pseuds/linaerys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For my <a href="http://linaerys.livejournal.com/785261.html">Porn-Paragraph-a-thon</a>, prompt from frackin_sweet: Hank has all kinds of repressed aggression and sexuality. People try to get reactions out of him because shit gets boring at Xavier's mansion sometimes.</p><p>IDK why this prompt made me want voyeurism/exhibitionism, but that's a kind of provocation, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Provocation

Ever since Dr. Xavier asked him to run, really asked him to run, Hank can't get enough of it. He can't do it during the day, and risk Alex _seeing_ him and _saying_ things to him, so he runs outside, at night, around the grounds. There are paths through the woods. This mansion is like something imported from England, although Dr. Xavier tells him no, it was built here, of New England granite.

Hank veers close to the house at certain points: Xavier's study (he really should sleep), his own lab (he doesn't want anyone messing around in there, and Alex's room (someone needs to make sure he's not getting into trouble). It's dark for the first hundred laps, and Hank assumes Alex is asleep.

On the next lap the light goes on. Alex is on the ground floor, standing in front of his floor-to-ceiling windows, the drapes pushed aside.

Hank stops at the base of a large sugar maple and jumps onto the lowest branch. His hearing is better when he's been running, opening himself up to the night like this, so he swears he can hear it when Alex leans on the glass with his forearm, and it bows out slightly.

But all he can hear is the blood rushing in his ears when Alex pulls up his shirt and lazily scratches at his stomach, narrow and pale and golden in the lamps that light his room.

Alex looks out into the darkness for a few minutes, running his fingers along the waistband of his sweatpants. Hank remembers how soft those were when he was wearing them. Alex wears his sweatpants low, exposing his hipbones.

Hank can't help it; it comes from somewhere inside him he can't control. He growls.

Alex shouldn't be able to hear it--sensitive hearing is not among his mutations--but his eyes flick up, a moment of surprise before a calculated smile parts his lips. He pushes his hand under the waistband of his sweatpants, getting a clear grip on himself.

Hank doesn't remember leaving the branch, but suddenly he's speeding across the lawn to stand closer. Maybe closer he'll feel Alex's heat through the glass. Maybe closer he'll see through Alex's posing.

Alex shouldn't be able to see him here, off to the side of his windows. The glass should reflect his own, irritatingly attractive reflection back at him.

Alex closes his eyes and tips his head back. Hank half wishes someone else would notice him there. Alex is so sure of himself, so cocky, he deserves a little embarassment. But mostly Hank wonders if this show is for him. He can hear, even through the glass, the little, unconscious noises that Alex makes.

Hank's hard from watching this, but he knows how tenuous his control is, how easily he could slip and let Alex catch him for real, so he watches from the side, glancing away when he isn't sure he can stand it, and doesn't touch himself. He practices what he's practiced for years: slowing his breath, tuning out the sounds and sights and smells outside of human ranges.

Alex is coming now, and Hank tells himself it doesn't matter, the sight of Alex's closed eyes, his chin tipped slightly up, does nothing for him.

Alex puts his hand on the glass--that hand, the one that leaves a palm print cloudy with his seed. Hank's mouth suddenly waters.

Alex looks out into the darkness, onto the lawn that Hank crossed earlier. His mouth forms a word, loud enough that Hank could probably hear it without his enhanced hearing.

"Boo."


End file.
